


just like insects

by synthpopp



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synthpopp/pseuds/synthpopp
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki had finally began to build a life for himself when he was involved in a head-on collision that killed him on impact. Viktor Nikiforov was born with the ability to see and hear ghosts, and finds that his new apartment comes with a cute boy.





	just like insects

**Author's Note:**

> "Clean up the dead you leave behind  
>  Just like insects."  
>  -Daughter, Lifeforms 
> 
> This first chapter is a heavier one. TW for Yuuri talking about his past of suicidal thoughts, a panic attack, and a car crash. I promise that beyond this point it gets fluffier but Yuuri just died, he's going through some stuff so bear with him!

Yuuri Katsuki, like all people who have dealt with suicidal ideations at one point or another, had spent his fair share of time thinking about what he believed happens to a person’s soul once their body is dead.

He hadn’t been hindered by severe depression in years, and had finally began to build himself a life and identity that didn’t revolve around it. He finally found himself able to make it through the day without becoming exhausted after the most basic of tasks, and he found himself able to make mistakes without instantly wanting to die. He found himself able to look in the mirror and not hate the man that stared back at him. He was so proud of how far he had come, so proud of what he had survived.

Unfortunately for Yuuri, lady luck didn’t give a damn about his recovery. On December 6, 2016 just seven days after his twenty-fourth birthday, Yuuri found himself in a head-on collision with a man who had drunk far too much whiskey for a Tuesday afternoon. Yuuri was killed on impact, and the other man died in intensive care three days later.

That day, Yuuri remembered driving down the same highway he always did on his way to and from work, and he remembered fear seizing him as a truck barreled straight for him. He remembered pain, and then nothingness.

The next time Yuuri felt the slightest amount of consciousness grace him, everything was dark. He felt like he had suddenly become weightless, like he was floating. He could hear the faintest noises he couldn’t identify, but they sounded like they were coming from fifty feet away and wrapped in layers of bubble wrap. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. He just barely was at all.

He wiggled his fingers and his toes, and he felt the faintest sensation of his left hand grazing against something, just barely. He moved his hand again. It was rough, like concrete, maybe?

Yuuri felt his eyes snap open, and the light from the sun burned. In his confusion he felt himself drop to the group from several feet up in the air. It didn’t hurt, nor did it knock the wind out of him. All he could feel was the faint rough feeling he had felt before on his back. He scrambled up, wildly looking in all directions. Part of the road was blocked off and traffic was being directed around what looked to be a devastating car crash. Cars slowed as they passed, trying to get a look at what had happened. A news reporter talked to a camera off to the side.

Yuuri quickly moved off of the road and tried to steady his shaking body. He had no idea how he had been suspended in the air, and he had no idea how he had gotten in the middle of the road with nobody noticing him. He patted his pants, feeling for his phone but he came up empty. What the hell? He never left home without his phone. What had he been doing, anyway? His car was nowhere in sight, and the part of town he was in now was a solid fifteen minute drive, why would he of chosen to walk the distance?

Yuuri wasn’t the kind of person that liked to use drugs, but he was seriously starting to wonder if he was under the influence. Sure, he had been drunk on a few occasions, sometimes embarrassingly so, but drinking never did this to him. It never left him in the middle of a street on a Tuesday afternoon, all alone.

Without much of a plan, Yuuri decided that his best bet would just be to head home and take it easy for the rest of the night. Hopefully he would feel better in the morning and he could put this all behind him.

Yuuri had social anxiety. He was used to feeling uneasy around people, especially strangers, but this was different. He felt so utterly...othered, walking next to people. It all felt so off. Like he was in a dream, or this was all a part of some big prank and at any moment somebody would jump out and explain what they had done to the world. Colors seemed a little too dull. Noises were muffled. He felt like a bug in a jar, forced to see the world around him through a thick layer of glass.

The severity of his situation didn’t hit him until Yuuri saw a bottle laying a few feet away from a garbage can, and he bent down to properly throw it away. He tried to grab it, but couldn’t quite get his hand around it. He tried again, and again, and…

His hand was going through the bottle. It’s not that he couldn’t get his hand around it right, he couldn’t touch it at all. It was like he didn’t exist.

And suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His lungs shriveled up and he gasped for air, his body shook, tears poured from his eyes. He tried his best to keep count like he used to, in for five, hold for three, out for seven, but his body wouldn’t let him. He felt like he was losing it. He hadn’t had a panic attack in so long. He was losing it all over again.

By the time he was able to breathe again every drop of energy that he had possessed had been siphoned out of him. He felt like an animal that had just been slaughtered and hung up, and every bit of blood had dropped to the floor one by one, leaving him completely devoid of life.

As a crying baby in a stroller passed him, Yuuri remembered he was in public. He just had a panic attack in public. He looked up from where he was curled up in on himself on the ground, trying to figure out just how many people were staring, but nobody was. They all walked right past Yuuri like somebody hysterically sobbing and hyperventilating on the sidewalk was just an everyday sight.

He damn near had another panic attack when a woman walked straight through him.

He felt his body go completely numb. It had been him, hadn’t it? In the wrecked car. He could remember trying to swerve out of the way. He remembered the fear that seized him as the car barreled closer. He remembered the way his neck felt when it snapped, the jolt of pain that took over his body, and it sent shivers to his core.

Yuuri never did decide where he thought people go after they died. He had a lot of theories, but he never could find the faith to fully believe in any single one. He had never given any serious thought to ghosts.

Yuuri found himself feeling more alone than he had in his entire life. He sat on the sidewalk and watched as people passed, his head spinning so fast he was sure if he had a stomach he would vomit. He had nobody. If nobody could see him, know he was there, he had nobody.

How was his family going to react? His friends?

How ironic that after treating himself like absolute shit for years and spending all of high school dreaming of nooses instead of whatever teenage boys were supposed to dream about, this is how he would meet his demise.

What was he supposed to do? Honest to god, what was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go? He couldn’t just sit on the sidewalk for all eternity, or could he? Is that what he was supposed to do? Just sit down and never get back up?

He was so tired. Not physically, Yuuri wasn’t even sure if he could fall asleep anymore. But mentally he had just been through one of the most traumatic experiences of his existence and he needed something that made sense above all else.

So he decided to keep going home. To keep walking with people like he was one of them, pretend he had to swerve to the side a bit to make sure that man didn’t hit him, pretend he had to wait for the light to say he could cross the street.

Once he got to his building he waited until somebody else got on the elevator, and then he got on with them. He stood in the corner and waited as people went to all the floors that weren’t his, watching them. He recognized a fair amount of them, but didn’t know any names. Would they hear the news? What would they think?

Eventually the doors opened on his floor, and he got out with the older woman that had pushed the button for him. Yuuri walked down the hall and to apartment 315B and tried to turn the knob in vain. There was no point, even if he could properly turn it he didn’t have his keys to unlock it. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes as he pushed his body through his door. The sensation wasn’t pleasant, but it was slight enough that he could ignore it.

He opened his eyes to see his apartment just as he had left it earlier that morning. The dirty dishes he hadn’t felt like cleaning were still in the sink, the blanket he hadn’t felt like folding was still thrown over the loveseat.

He felt numb. It was all too much, too bad. He just had to...go to sleep. If he went to sleep and woke up everything would be back to normal. This wasn’t his reality. Something was wrong. Something was wrong, and it needed to be fixed, and if he just...closed his eyes…

He found his way to his bedroom, bed still unmade and a pile of dirty laundry on the floor. He needed to clean. He made a mental note to himself, clean your room after you wake up. Maybe cleaning would help clear his head.

He didn’t think about what he’d do if he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t think about what he’d do if he couldn’t pull the blankets over himself. He laid down, concentrating as hard as he could on not floating straight through his bed. The pillow wasn’t in the right position but he didn’t dare try to adjust it. Everything was normal. He was just tired.

Yuuri didn’t fall asleep, but he did get to the point where he felt like he was just on the brink of unconsciousness. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to find a position that felt comfortable but he just felt so bizarre no matter how he laid.

He tried his best not to think about anything. Just zone out and let time pass. His body felt heavy with the thoughts that kept creeping into his mind like bugs crawling all over his skin, but he refused to focus on any single one of them.

He stayed like that for as long as he could stand it.

When he opened his eyes again he felt just as miserable as when he closed them. The first thing he noticed was that it was completely dark, darker than he ever saw his apartment become. Then he noticed that he wasn’t in his bed anymore. He frantically groped at his surroundings but it was so hard to really feel anything, let alone identify what he was touching.

Thankfully for him, somebody switched the light on only a couple moments after he began to panic, shedding light on what appeared to be a basement, complete with concrete floors and boilers. Yuuri was in the basement of his apartment building. He felt panic seized his chest but he did his best to remain in control, to not let it get the best of him.

So if he zoned out in his apartment, he wouldn’t be able to stay materialized on the ground? Bullshit! What bullshit! He should be able to do whatever he wants in his own goddamn house and not have to worry about sinking into the basement! His entire situation was ridiculous!

Yuuri stormed out of the basement, passing the maintenance person who must of turned on the lights. He passed right through the door, not caring enough to wait until the other person left to open it. He passed right through the door to the stairs and put all of his mental energy into his foot stopping at the stair with each step.

Once he got back into his apartment he angrily sat down on his loveseat, seething for a couple of moments. So, he isn’t allowed to take a goddamn nap anymore? Does he seriously have to be paying close attention to what he’s doing at every single moment? It was all so stupid.

He continued to complain to himself, loathing every single thing about his situation. After some time passed, he realized that he didn’t have many other options for what to do. He couldn’t just boot up his computer to go online and forget all about what had happened. He couldn’t turn on the TV, either, or text a friend, go to work, go to his dance lessons, anything. All he could do was stare at the wall and mumble his frustrations to himself.

The thought occurred to him that he technically could pay his family or one of friends a visit, but he thought better of it. He wasn’t sure how long he had “slept” for but it couldn’t of been more than a day since the crash. If his loved ones had heard about it, it was still a fresh wound. He really didn’t have any desire to see his mother crying over him.

He...he wouldn’t really be able to do anything ever again, would he? It’s not like he’d be able to get everybody together after a long day to go get drunk and sing some karaoke together. It’s not like he’d be able to aspire to get a better job, or a better house. Not like this.

Why was he the only one here? Why hadn’t Yuuri seen any other dead people? Why couldn’t he of been taken to some kind of afterlife that didn’t just leave him in a place he clearly had no business being in anymore?

Was this just how he was going to be for eternity?

He didn’t let himself think about it. Baby steps, baby steps. He was sitting on the couch just fine, and it didn’t take much concentration to be able to do so. It must just be when he zones out completely that he’s unable to stay on the floor. If he concentrated harder, would he be able to interact with his environment more?

He saw his remote control laying on the floor right next to his feet, and looked up at the blank TV that sat directly in front of him. Having anything on would be better than nothing.

He knelt on the ground right next to the remote and took a deep breath. His hand went to the remote, and he concentrated as hard as he possibly could on his hand materializing just enough for him to pick it up. Once he was concentrating so hard he was sure he’d of given himself a headache if he could, he lifted his hand. The remote sat on the ground completely unmoved.

So he tried again. And again, and again. On his fifth try he managed to move it ever so slightly, proving that he was onto something, which only fueled his motivation to keep trying it more.

He didn’t manage to pick it up, but he did get used to moving it ever so slightly with his touch.

So Yuuri took to laying back down on the loveseat, his feet hanging over the edge. He found himself wondering how much longer he would be able to stay in his apartment. Theoretically, forever, but once all of his furniture was out and new people moved in he would feel odd. He didn’t want to haunt somebody’s apartment.

He wanted a home, though. More than anything he wanted to come home to the same place every night.

He still felt like he was stuck in a bad dream, like any moment now he’d wake up and have blood running through his veins again. Was he seriously just supposed to accept the fact that the rest of his life was over?

Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about his student loans anymore, Yuuri thought bitterly.

Yuuri looked to his right, craning his neck slightly so he could see out of his window. The setting sun painted the sky a vibrant orange. He could get through this, he decided. One day at a time.

 

-

 

He decided not to go to his own funeral. He was curious to see who showed up, but not curious enough to see the faces of the people he loved mourning him and not be able to say a word. He so desperately wanted to let them all know he was okay, but he had no idea how. He hadn’t had much more luck interacting with his environment despite his efforts.

He was at home when his mother and father came to his apartment the first time, however. He had been sitting on the loveseat, trying his best to zone out without falling through the floor when he heard the sound of the front door being opened. His head snapped to the door and he scrambled to sit up and hide himself behind the back of the loveseat, his head just barely high enough to see who was coming in.

And he saw them. His mother, who looked as though she had aged ten years and his father, who had bags under his eyes like Yuuri had never seen. He wanted to look away, get out of the building as fast as possible, but his body refused to move. His eyes refused to look anywhere else.

He kept his eyes locked on them as they went through all of the food in his small kitchen area, throwing away his now spoiled leftovers and produce, and setting aside some of the food that was still okay. At one point his mom began to cry, and his father held her. Yuuri saw a few tears fall from his eyes as well but he wiped them away before his mom could see.

Above all else, Yuuri felt guilty. Like he had done something wrong. Like he had been the reason that car hit him and put him in this mess.

“Mom,” Yuuri said, his voice shaky. “Dad? I’m here. I’m here, okay? I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m gonna be alright. It’s not so bad.” His parents continued to go through his things, oblivious to his words. He felt his own chin begin to wobble. “You two are going to be alright too, I promise. Everything’s gonna be okay, and-and one day we’re gonna see each other again, I know it. And-” Yuuri felt tears begin to run down his own face, and he tried his best to wipe them away. “And this pain, it’s temporary. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri slumped back down to a laying position and he let himself cry as he listened to his parents’ hushed voices in the background. The tears started off slow but quickly became hysterical as he gasped for breath and wailed. His parents were good people, some of the best he knew. All they had ever done was love him unconditionally.

The scene of the crash played over and over again in his head. Could Yuuri of avoided it? If he started swerving to the right a fraction of a second sooner, would he still be alive? If he had just left five minutes earlier or later he could’ve avoided the whole thing. If he had taken a different route he’d still be alive. If he kept going through the yellow lights right before they turned red instead of stopping, maybe he would’ve been far enough ahead. If he stopped to get gas like he should’ve he would be fine.

Everything had aligned perfectly to make sure he died that day. Why? Was it a part of some greater plan, or had he just been unlucky?

Yuuri decided to leave his apartment before his parents did. He felt like he was intruding, being there while they talked in hushed voices about what to do with his possessions, avoiding his name as if saying it would make them break.

He left through his door and went down the stairs, still making sure to step to the side when other people passed him. He wondered if they felt anything as they moved through him, like a chill or an invasive feeling. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Yuuri headed out to the sidewalk and began walking. He had no destination in mind, but it was the first time he left his apartment since he first went after the accident. It was nice to be outside. It was nice to feel the sun on him, even if the feeling was so slight he wondered if it was all in his head.

Yuuri found himself watching people more than he usually would as he walked. With no chance of people knowing that he was looking at them, peoplewatching became a lot less nerve-wracking. He watched a woman pushing a stroller while talking on her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, obviously frustrated (something about rescheduling an appointment) but she did her best to hold it together, and she never raised her voice. The child in the stroller couldn’t of been more than a year and a half at the most, and they were more than content to play with a small stuffed animal in their hands.

He watched a teenage boy walk down the street, his footing a little off. He had a smile on his face, though, and his eyes were wide open like he needed to see as much of the world as he possibly could in the shortest amount of time. Whatever drug he had taken, he was clearly enjoying it.

He also watched two business people walk by, dressed in crisp formal attire and a briefcase in their hands. They walked quicker than most people and they didn’t utter a word to each other. Yuuri wondered where they worked because as far as he knew, there wasn’t many formal businesses around this part of town, if any. Maybe they were secret agents on a mission, he theorized. Maybe there was a secret organization somewhere in town, tracking the movements of a crime ring he never even knew existed.

Yuuri had never noticed how many interesting people were in town when he was still alive. He had always been too worried about himself, if his hair was sticking up, if people could tell he was nervous, if he was running late, what he was having for dinner that night. His busy mind never gave him the opportunity to fully take in his surroundings.

He wanted to do something with his time rather than just walk aimlessly. There was an art museum, about a fifteen minute drive downtown. Yuuri had never gotten the chance to go to it since it opened up last spring, but he had the time now.

He continued to people watch as he walked, not even bothering to watch where he was stepping. There was no point. He had to admit, it was a certain kind of liberating to be able to feel disconnected from the world. Nothing could hurt him anymore. He was invincible, almost. He couldn’t do anything to the world and the world couldn’t do anything to him.

The museum itself was in a large brick building, its doors open to let in the cool air. He felt every so slightly uneasy about entering the museum without standing in line to pay for a ticket. He silently paid his thanks to all of the people who made the project possible and walked through the entrance, walking straight through the group of people that had gathered in the lobby.

The whole experience of walking around the building felt otherworldly. Each step of Yuuri’s was silent, and he stepped over the barriers put up in place between the viewer and the piece of art. He ran his fingers over the sculptures and paintings, trying his best to create the illusion that his hands wrapped around what he touched instead of phasing through it.

Yuuri had always appreciated physical art but never really understood a lot of it. Paintings were nice to look at, but without somebody spoon-feeding him an explanation of why it was created he never really got it. His specialties lied more in the dance and music spectrum of art.

By the time Yuuri left it was dark again, but he didn’t want to go home. He doubted his parents would still be in his apartment but he didn’t want to risk it. He wondered what they thought about the mess. How embarrassing, to die when you hadn’t cleaned in weeks.

Yuuri decided to walk around the city some more. The streetlights illuminated the few people’s faces who had somewhere to be after sundown. Or maybe they had nowhere to be, like Yuuri. Maybe they were trying to be content with simply existing, too.

Yuuri was going to make the most of this. He wasn’t going to let himself become depressed again, not after all the work he had put into his recovery and, especially now that he had nobody to help him crawl back out of that hole.

He needed to learn how to enjoy his own company and how to find entertainment without being able to interact with his surroundings. He had an entire world to see. He could hardly remember Japan, the country he was born in and the country he left at the age of seven. He had lived in America ever since, moving first to the suburbs with his family and moving to the outskirts of Detroit when he was eighteen and off to college. He found a job at a news station that he liked well enough and that paid the bills, so he never really had a reason to leave.

He grew to love the city over the years. While it was quite different from the tiny town he spent his early childhood in, it had a charm of its own. He wasn’t ready to leave it behind just yet.

Yuuri walked around aimlessly, letting himself get lost until the sun rose again. There was a certain serenity that came with not needing to be anywhere. He didn’t need to get home to sleep for the night, he didn’t need to make sure he got something to eat in the morning.

It took him nearly the full day to find his way back to the apartment, but instead of becoming frustrated it felt like some kind of game. He had all the time in the world, so why worry about it?

Yuuri returned to his apartment at long last, noticing that many of his smaller things were now gone. His parents would probably have the place completely cleaned out soon, and Yuuri didn’t want that. He wanted to have all of his belongings where he had left them for as long as possible. Of course he couldn’t own the apartment anymore, what with no way of paying the bills, but the idea of losing it made his heart hurt. It was his place. The first place he had ever gotten by himself. All of his years spent in college he had to live with roommates that varied in insufferability: being able to be on his own was his own special treat to himself now that he had the finances to make it work.

He had worked hard to get the job, too. He spent hours upon hours combing through ads for positions online and applied to dozens, making different resumes for each of them. He gave the best interview he possibly could, and once he actually got the job he did it to the best of his ability. If anybody could say anything about him, he never wanted it to be that he didn’t try.

Yuuri was twenty-four years old. He had only finished college two years prior. He hadn’t had enough time. There was still so much to do, so much to see. Sure, he could go anywhere, but it wasn’t the same when you could talk to anybody else, it wasn’t the same when you couldn’t properly feel the way the wind feels on your skin.

More than anything else in the world, Yuuri wanted to make something of himself. He wanted to gather up all the pieces from his broken adolescence and create a bright future for himself with them. He wanted to sit back in his old age and feel a warmth in his chest when he thought about all of his accomplishments. Being average never was good enough for him, he wanted to change the world for the better.

Yuuri began to look around his apartment, doing his best to make a mental note of everything that was taken. He wondered how much time he had left. It had been about two weeks since he was in the accident, and the end of the month was about a week and a half away. Beyond that, and the apartment wasn’t being paid for anymore.

Where would he go without his home? He couldn’t go back to live with his parents. There was no way. He was pretty sure his old room had been converted into storage, and there was no was in hell he was going to live with other people that had no idea he was there. He would feel too weird, like he was spying on them. And the last thing he wanted to see was more of how his death had affected his family.

A part of him just wanted to stay in his apartment even once new people moved in, but he’d feel even creepier then. Whoever was coming deserved their privacy.

Yuuri didn’t have a plan. He was just going to keep going one day at a time.

 

-

 

Yuuri spent most of his days trying his best to learn how to interact with the world around him. He could do it, he knew he could, he made the tv remote move a little bit before! There had to be some kind of trick, he assumed. Once he figured out the trick he’d be golden.

No matter how hard he thought about his hand being able to pick up the remote, it just didn’t happen. He was learning how to make it move more and more on the ground, but picking it up even the slightest amount was a very different story.

What was he doing wrong? The ghosts in the movies did it all the time, no problem. Wasn’t he supposed to be able to fling cabinets open and slam doors shut without even touching them? Could he even consider himself a proper ghost if he couldn’t lift a lousy tv remote?

He started to wonder if maybe the trick wasn’t to touch it at all. Maybe it was all some sort of mind power.

Yuuri decided to sit himself in front of his closed bedroom door and focused as hard as he could on it swinging open like he was in a horror movie. His face scrunched up as he stared at the doorknob, willing it to turn even just a little.

Absolutely nothing happened. It didn’t budge in the slightest, let alone slam open. Yuuri wanted to cry. He knew he could do it! What was the trick? What was he missing?

If only he knew any other dead people. If only he had anybody to help him, to teach him the ropes of existing like this. While living, it’s not like Yuuri was ever a social butterfly, but the longer he went without a proper conversation the worse he began to feel. He couldn’t even journal like he did when he was depressed to get some of the loneliness out. He was stuck with the options of either letting the feelings fester or talking to a wall about them, and neither were terribly appealing options.

He couldn’t escape the feeling that he felt as if he were being punished. While he hadn’t been a saint in his living life, there was nothing he could think of that would’ve set him aside from the rest of society as particularly evil. Living in a world which you can only observe for all eternity, being able to see and hear others but being completely invisible yourself...it was hell. There was no way around it.

Yuuri knew that everything didn’t revolve around him and it’s not as if he was shocked to see that the majority of people were unaffected by his death, but he couldn’t help but feel left behind.

All he wanted to do was be able to pick up the phone and call Phichit and complain about what some guy said to him at work or talk about how much it sucks being an adult. All he wanted was to be able to text Mari and ask how things were going in her life.

Eventually, Yuuri came to the conclusion that seeing a friend would have to be enough for him, for now at least. He wanted to pay Phichit a visit. His apartment was about a ten minute drive away, so it wouldn’t take long for Yuuri stop by and see if he was at home. Besides, did he really have anything better to be doing?

He took his time walking there. It was bizarre, walking on the sidewalks instead of just driving his car or taking public transportation. It was bizarre walking everywhere instead of driving, but it was nice in a way, too. It forced him to appreciate his surroundings. The sun hung right over his head, telling Yuuri it was around noontime. He found that he didn’t really keep track of time much anymore. The only clocks in the apartment were the ones on his phone and his computer, and his phone had been destroyed and there was no way for him to quick turn on his PC.

He didn’t mind much, to his surprise. Time passes irregularly when you don’t sleep at night, anyways.

When Yuuri arrived at Phichit’s apartment, he debated whether or not it was a good idea to continue. He felt like a creep. He couldn’t call or text to let him know he was coming over, had no way of knocking or otherwise asking to be let in. He just had to step through the door and into his home. What if Phichit was naked or something? It wouldn’t be the first time Yuuri saw him without any clothes, but still, he’d feel bad.

Yuuri also knew that if Phichit had been the one in the crash, he’d want him to check up on him.

So, he forced himself through the door and glanced around the apartment. It was a mess. It was always messy, it was Phichit’s apartment after all, but this was a different kind of mess. Instead of the usual mild clutter it was dirty dishes piled high, trash that was so full it began to overflow onto the floor, and what looked to be dirty clothes strewn just about everywhere. Yuuri felt a pang in his heart.

Yuuri turned to see the tv turned on, and upon closer investigation, Phichit asleep on the couch in front of it. He walked closer to him and looked at his friend for the first time since everything had changed. Phichit never took naps during the day but god, did he look like he needed sleep. He had major bags under his eyes and it was obvious that he wasn’t well.

Yuuri felt tears well in his eyes. He had been so blessed to have a friend like Phichit in his life. The two of them had met when they were both in middle school, and they just clicked. Phichit had recently moved to the states from Thailand and Yuuri could relate, having moved when he was seven from Japan. They grew up together. Phichit was always there for Yuuri when he was at his worst, but he always pushed him to better himself, too. He made Yuuri laugh until he couldn’t breathe when he wasn’t sure he would be able to laugh ever again.

It hurt so much to not be able to comfort his closest friend. He wanted to do something, anything to let him know that he was alright, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

Yuuri promised him that once he was able to, he would. He would never dream of abandoning Phichit, and not even death would stop him from doing whatever he could for him.

Yuuri decided to leave before Phichit woke up. He felt guilt clawing away inside of him, like he did this to him on purpose. Like he did something with malicious intent.

Yuuri could not stop feeling guilty about dying, no matter what spin he tried to put on it. He reminded himself over and over that he didn’t want to die either, that if he could of avoided it he would’ve. He couldn’t shake that feeling though, the feeling that he did something evil to all of his loved ones.

He knew he didn’t mean to die, but ultimately it was him that hurt them all like this. He couldn’t help but feel directly responsible for his parent’s tears and Phichit’s mess of an apartment. He felt like a bad person for suffering at the hands of a drunk driver.

He needed to learn how to communicate with them. He needed to learn how to let them hear a few of his words, or learn how to write something down. He needed to give them some reassurance.

Yuuri made his way home as quickly as he could, not bothering to watch out for the people around him this time. He walked directly through people and poles and a couple of pet dogs, ignoring the weird sensation that it brought. He needed to get home as soon as possible, he needed to find a pen or something in his apartment, he needed to get some paper out and he needed to work until he could accomplish what he needed to.

When he walked up to his apartment door, he realized it was already open. His mom, dad, and Mari were all there, as well as a couple of people in uniforms that read the name of a moving company. The two workers lifted his loveseat and began to walk out the door, passing right through Yuuri as they did.

“No, no-” Yuuri said in vain. “No, I still use that!” He called after the movers as they walked down the hall and to the stairwell at the end. They were taking his things. His things that he paid for with his own money. His things that he still used on a daily basis.

He had run out of time.

All he could do was watch as they took every last possession that he used to own. He tried to get through to them in any way he could, he tried to tell them to stop, he tried to close doors in order to get his point across, but it was all in vain.

It took them two trips and the rest of the day, but they took everything. There was no pen or paper to try and use, there was no more tv remote. There was nothing.

Yuuri felt like he had just lost his home. In a way, he had. The sun was setting and he had nowhere else to go. It’s not like he needed shelter, but it sure was nice to have a place to come back to.

He laid down on the floor and looked up at the ceiling. No matter how he tried to put an optimistic twist on the situation, he just couldn’t. He was so tired. All he wanted was to go back to his normal routine and feel normal again, just for one day. All he wanted was one more day of feeling normal.

He had no idea what to do. There was nothing to do. There was nothing to do except lay on the goddamn floor and stare at the ceiling.

He hadn’t felt so defeated since he was in high school and wanted to die. He couldn’t believe that he ever wanted this, as if it would of been any nicer than continuing on with life.

He found himself almost feeling angry at his family, like they should have somehow known Yuuri still needed his things. Like they should've known that they should have kept paying for his apartment. It was so silly. What was the point in keeping an apartment for a ghost? There was no point. There really wasn’t a point to anything anymore, he thought bitterly.

He didn’t get up at all that night. He didn’t get up until the middle of the next day when the sun shone in through his window right in his eyes. He went back and forth between thinking of nothing and thinking about how awful everything was. For having no real body at all, he felt so heavy. He felt so miserable.

The days went so much slower beyond that point. Minutes passing felt like swimming through honey. Everything took so much longer than it should have.

He tried to force himself to get outside and walk around but his heart just wasn’t in it. He didn’t want to people watch, he didn’t want to spend half the day walking to random places in the city. He was making through one day at a time, but each day now felt like three. It was insufferable.

Within a couple of weeks people interested in moving in began to take tours of the apartment. Yuuri always went to go and sit out in the hall when they came. He didn’t want to see strangers looking around his home, considering how their furniture would look instead of his own.

He now understood why the ghosts in movies tended to be hostile to the new people that came and lived in their homes. He wanted nothing more than to tell anybody who came into his apartment to leave, that it was where he lived. That it was all he had left.

Somehow, he had missed it when the attractive silver-haired russian man took a tour of his apartment. Maybe it was one of the very few times he actually had been out in town somewhere. Maybe he had gotten to the point where he just didn’t care enough and he left to go to the hall without even looking at whoever walked in.

Yuuri had spent a lot of time feeling absolutely, overwhelmingly confused since the crash, that was for sure. None of that compared to when he heard the door open after a while of not seeing anybody come on a tour, and Yuuri looked up from where he had been lying on the floor. The man awkwardly pushed the door in with his body and set down two giant boxes that he had been carrying. His face was flushed slightly, probably from the effort of hoisting the boxes up the stairs, and he took a deep breath.

The man looked around the room before looking directly at Yuuri, and he gasped quietly.

“I wasn’t aware that this place came with a roommate!” He said, flashing a smile worthy of a supermodel.

There was absolutely no doubt in Yuuri’s mind that the man was talking to him. There was no other option, not with what he said, not with the way they were making direct eye contact.

He could see him. Yuuri, for the first time in months, had been seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Also, if ao3 user Just_Like_Insects happens to come across this fic, your username totally inspired the name haha. If you're not cool with that just let me know ;)


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